Are We Human?
by LaFay97
Summary: The Phantom is sent forward in time, where he meets Alicia Harris. A girl so timid, yet so full of fire who agrees to help him get back to his time. Yet, as they spend time together, can they help falling in Love? And when their adventure takes them to Paris, what happens when Alicia has a choice to make? Erik/OC, Warnings inside.
1. Prologue

**Warnings: This story contains subjects that may be triggers. Including Sexual Assault and Physical Assault.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom Of The Opera in any of it's renditions. I own only my OC's. **

**Prologue: Music Box**

_The masked figure in the dim lit chamber was clouded with sorrow. It was not a harsh, loud sorrow one might expect from the Tragedy of his life, but the quiet, painful sorrow that burrowed into ones heart and ate them from the inside out. His silence screamed a thousand pains. A snow-white mask covered a third of his face. The rest of which, was unbelievably handsome in the classic form. Upon seeing him one would suspect a cold gaze and a malevolent voice. Yet, this man sat staring at a music box. A monkey of lead playing the symbols sat on top as soft music played from the box's interior._

_"_Masquerade…hide your face so the world will never find you…_" his clear, dauntingly beautiful voice rang out in the underground chamber. The voice was so full of sadness and loneliness that anyone who could have heard it, would feel pain so harsh in their hearts, it would have brought tears to their eyes._

_When the song finished, the man picked the box up with his long piano fingers delicately. He had noticed something he never had before. It was a tiny button-like lump over the monkey's heart. He frowned and tilted his head. Why had he never seen this before? With his thumb, he pressed the tiny button, expecting nothing to come of it. A click sounded and a different tune began playing. It was unlike anything he had ever heard. Something that sounded so different he had to wonder whether it was of this country _

_A strange sensation began to grow from his heart outwards. It was hot, so very hot. He felt as if flames were eating their way through his body. His vision turned to darkness and consciousness began to leave him._

_In that large underground chamber, the haunting Phantom Of The Opera disappeared. _


	2. An Unusual Meeting

**An Unusual Meeting**

I felt as though my head was going to fall off, I guess that's what I get when I stay up all night reading. How much sleep did I get? I turned to my alarm clock; the digital numbers blinked '7.00 am' at me. I groaned. An hour's sleep? Today was not going to be a good day. "Alicia, are you up?" my 'mother's' voice asked me coldly from behind the door at the top of the stairs. If looks could burn, that door would be in ashes.

"Yes," I called without any emotional affliction. With a sigh, I pushed away from my hard bed and stepped onto the cold cement floor. I looked around me. I could feel the sinking feeling in my stomach. I hated this place.

My 'loving' adoptive family had placed me in their dank basement. They collected the money for having me and gave me just enough to survive on. Yet, whatever they gave me was unhealthy. Still, being down here meant they never bothered me. They hated to be underground. "Closer to Satan" they would say.

I changed quickly into a pair of dark jeans and a long sleeve purple shirt. I walked over to the grimy bit of metal that served as a mirror and checked my appearance. A frown came to my face instantly. I was a pale creature, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. My figure was…in a word, undesirable. It was stupid, but I always craved to be blonde and skinny. Instead I got brunette and chubby. A snarl came to my lips and I turned away angrily. I wonder why I always looked in the mirror when I hated what I saw?

I snatched my bag from the floor and ascended the stairs. When I opened the door, it smacked into my big 'brother'. He snarled at me, rage in his eyes. He had the palest blonde hair and aristocratic features with the palest green eyes. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed me against the wall.

"Watch where you're going, slut!" he hissed. I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for a hit. Today, however, it did not come. Maybe today would not be so bad?

Andrew let me go and turned away. Storming further off into the house to eat breakfast with his parents. Quietly, I slipped out the back door, not wanting to aggravate them with my presence.

It was slowly turning to winter. My excitement for the season was bitter sweet. I enjoyed the cold, but it was also a good excuse to wear long clothes to cover my bruises without looking odd. If anyone ever asked about my bruises, all I told them was that I was incredibly clumsy, then I laughed it off. No one bothered with me much though, so it wasn't too much of a hassle.

I walked under the falling amber leaves along the cracked pathway. The grey-clouded sky felt closer than usual, I wasn't sure whether it was a comfort or it was unsettling. All I knew was that it was going to be hell at school, like always.

_The Phantom's eyes slowly opened and his hand instantly flew to his face, relief spread through him when he realized his mask was still on. He found he was in some kind of strange underground room; its only illumination came from an odd orange light above him. His pale blue eyes zipped around the room speedily, trying to assess his situation. The man stood and dusted his clothes off. With a frown, he took in the rest of the room._

_ It was done in grey, hard material that reminded him of stone, but was not quite that. A shabby bed with coarse blankets sat in one corner, a small bedside table sat beside it with a lamp. It was unlike any lamp he had seen before. For one, it was not candle lit. A set of drawers sat against the adjoining wall, beside that was a bit of metal that shone so little; it could hardly hold a reflection. In another corner was a desk, nowhere near as elaborate or classy as the usual ones he was accustomed to. Swiftly, he came to the conclusion that he had somehow ended up in a peasants quarters._

_ Above a set of stairs, he heard a door open. In stepped a girl. Their eyes locked instantly, both standing in shock of each other. He had never met anyone like this girl. She was a pretty little thing, dark chocolate hair and golden green eyes with creamy skin. Her figure was risqué in form, holding more curve that the general ballet brats he was used to of a similar age. Yet, there was something wrong with the way she carried herself, it was shy and stand off-ish. She was in strange materials, and certainly no dress. An odd thought crossed his mind, as to how she had such a thin waist without the help of a corset, especially with her curves. _

_ The girl finally gained some composure, but instead of screaming, as he had expected her to, she said, "how did you get in here?" in the most timid voice he had ever heard. It was soft and had a very strange accent, but it was fearful._

_"I am not sure," he found himself speaking honestly. She reached the bottom of the stairs; her eyes scanned him from head to toe, stopping at his eyes._

_"If you try and hurt me, I'll fight," she told him. Her voice did not hold threat but simply was a statement. _


	3. Our Rules

**Our Rules**

My heart was beating so rapidly with fear I thought I was going to faint. The man standing in the middle of my bedroom was unlike any man I had ever seen. He was dressed impeccably in clothes that were so out of this time I had to wonder whether it was a costume. He had a white mask on as well, but somehow I didn't think that was part of a costume. It was almost a part of him.

"How did you get in here?" I asked as I began to walk down the stairs.

"I am not sure," he said in a clear and incredibly French accent. His voice had an unbelievable quality to it. As if it would be better suited to singing, but was still wonderful to listen to speaking. Yet, this was still an older man in my bedroom.

"If you try and hurt me, I'll fight," I told him honestly. He frowned slightly before letting out a low chuckled that seemed to vibrate along my spine. I shivered.

"Tell me, where am I?" he asked with perfect annunciation, despite his accent. He held himself proudly. I had already begun to feel insecure around him.

"Ah, you're in my bedroom…uh, Perth, Australia," I told him, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and staring at the floor.

"How?" he mumbled to himself, turning slightly away from me. I looked back up; I saw the unmasked profile of his face. He was astoundingly handsome; a strong jaw, high cheekbones, a straight nose, soulful blue eyes and a shaped brow, currently burrowed in thought.

"Where did you come from, sir?" I asked meekly. He turned to face me once again.

"France," he told me shortly. Obviously still trying to figure out something.

"Okay. Uh, do you remember getting here?" I asked.

"No, I am afraid not," he told me thoughtfully. I nodded and turned to put my bag down; when I turned back he was staring at me. Feeling awkward, I tugged at the sleeve of my shirt.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked. It was a little ruder than he had been previously, but it seemed as though he was brushing some thought off.

"Alicia Harris." I crossed the room to sit on my rather uncomfortable bed. If this man was here to hurt me, I believe he would have already.

"What's yours?" I asked. He tilted his head to the side as if examining me.

"You may call me…Erik," he said gracefully. It wasn't his real name, I would have bet, but it would do.

"Okay, Erik. What's the last thing you remember?" I asked softly. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"I was…in my residence. Listening to music, when…" his eyes called that he had figured something out "Daroga! Bloody Persians and their magic!" I flinch at the angry voice. My pulse quickened and I felt my fight or flight response acting up. This meant I could do nothing. He turned back to me.

"What year is this, dear?" he asked calmly, his eyes widened when he saw my state. "Are you well?" he asked, unsure of himself. My movement returned quicker than usual. I was useless around violence. However, if I was being directly attacked, my fight response sometimes worked.

"Ah, 2014," I said in a shaky voice. His impossibly blue eyes widened and he fell to his knees in shock. He put a hand to his forehead as if it were in pain.

"Wh-what year did you think it was, Erik?"

"1842," his voice sounded hollow. What? 1842? I looked him over, everything from his appearance to the way he talked screamed 1800's, but at the same time, how was such a thing possible? I carefully walked up to him, keeping at a metres distance I looked into his electric eyes. I could always tell a liar by their eyes.

Erik's eyes were haunting and beautiful at once. There was so much and so little emotion in them. They were sad, but passionate. There it was, honesty.

"I'm so sorry, Erik," I told him honestly. His gaze held mine.

"I need to get back…" he said to himself, more than I.

"I…I can help you, if you would like," I offered. I knew what it was like to be in a place you didn't belong.

"Why would you help me?" he asked bitterly. I smiled at him.

"If I could get away I would. I would never want anyone trapped _here_."

Erik and I stood, still facing each other. I examined him once again.

"Those are amazing clothes…" I said softly. My hands smacked to my mouth when I realized what I said. My eyes met his in embarrassment. He only seemed amused.

"You believe so?" he asked with a smirk. I blushed and looked at my feet.

"It's…ah, well…it's just because I want to be a fashion designer, that's all…" I mumbled.

"Ah, no need to worry, child." I frowned at the use of the word 'child' but did not correct him.

"However," I told him regretfully "You can't just wear those."

"I suppose the comparison between our attire is…in a word, vast." He quirked an eyebrow at me and I blushed again.

"I'll see if I can find you some. Ah, be back…" I looked him over again, judging whether to raid Andrew's room or my 'father's'. He was like a mix between both of them, tall like Andrew, but thin like Mike. I suppose Andrew's clothes would do.

_Erik watched Alicia take his measurements with her eyes and then leave the room. What an odd girl. If their roles had been reversed, he would have laughed at the notion of being in a completely different time. But she had merely looked into his eyes and agreed. Erik once again glanced around the room. He wondered what she had meant by what she had said about wanting to leave. However, what surprised him the most was that she had not once acknowledged his mask. It was for the better, but it was still curious. She accepted his mask as easily as she accepted his origin. When she did look at his face, it was his eyes that held her gaze. _

I came back down from upstairs to find that he had happily taken to lounging on my bed. It was a little affronting, to see him already so comfortable. Yet, there was no way that he could be in any other room. Not with my parents. I thanked my lucky stars that they never came down stairs.

"Erik, I brought you clothes," I said awkwardly as I walked up to my bed. I extended them to him. He sat up, and whilst standing gracefully, took them from my hands.

"Where may I change?" I stepped back, he was a tall man, and I was not one to enjoy being close to people.

"There is a bathroom just through that door," I instructed, pointing to a door opposite the foot of my bed. His eyes widened slightly. It did easily blend into the walls.

"_Merci_," he spoke with a small smile, and then left for the bathroom. I sunk down on my bed. What on earth was I going to do? Housing a man from 172 years ago. It was madness. How was I going to get him back?

The door opened and I looked up. I would be lying if I said he did not look great. I had chosen a black dress shirt and trousers with a leather belt. They fit him well, I realized his height was taller than I thought, and it compensated for his more wiry build. His black hair was still slicked back and he still had on the mask.

"These are very comfortable," he said plainly, placing his folded clothes on top of my set of drawers. I sat up in my bed and crossed my legs.

He stood not too far away from my bed with his arms crossed as he considered me.

"So, what shall our arrangements be?" I blinked a few times before shaking my head to clear it.

"Right, well. We are going to need a few rules first." He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Everything about him seemed to be a show. There was something missing from him.

"Okay, well, first of all, no going upstairs without me. My family cannot find out you're here. Second, If you need anything, please let me know. Ah… don't go through my things," I looked around the room, "there aren't a lot of them, but they're still mine."

"I understand, anything else?"

"Don't…ah, touch me…at all. Not even friendly." I looked away when I said this, feeling silly. Still, to be comfortable with having a stranger in my room, it was a declared thing.

"I can agree to that."

"Do you have anything, maybe, you want to establish?"

"Do not ask me about my mask," his voice was deathly serious. I nodded solemnly.

"I agree."

"Excellent. Now, living arrangements?" He looked around the room. Knowing there was only one single bed, it made the question just a touch awkward. I slipped off the bed and reached under the bed, pulling out another thin mattress and pushing it to the wall next to the steps. If for some reason a family member peeked into the room, they would not be able to see it. I took two of the four blankets off my bed and dressed the bed. I only had one pillow, but I gave that to him also.

"Sorry, that's the best I can do," I told him when I turned around with a shrug. Erik nodded, not saying a thing. I scratched my head; I was unsure what to do next.

"Oh, ah, just so you know, I'm up early during week days. I have school. I don't get back til five." He frowned.

"That's fine." We stood staring at each other looking for something to say.

"Ah, are you hungry?" I asked nervously. He tilted his head up.

"I am."

"Right. I'll be back. Uhm, make yourself at home?" I bounded up the stairs just to get away from the awkward situation.


	4. Music That We Share

**Music That We Share**

I woke the next morning, and for just a moment, I had forgotten about Erik. I looked to my alarm, 6.30. I slipped from my bed silently and caught sight of Erik sleeping. His back was to me, so I couldn't make out much. I grabbed my clothes from my drawer and slipped into my bathroom. No longer could I change out there.

When I was in my black jeans and black tank with a red leather jacket over top, I pulled on my flat-heeled knee high boots and crept out of the bathroom. Erik was still sleeping facing away from the room. What if he woke and I wasn't here? Quickly, I pulled out a notebook and pencil, as well as several classical literature books that I owned and put them at the foot of Erik's bed.

When I cam back at five, Erik was resting up against the wall on his makeshift bed, he was intent on writing in the notebook. Still, when I entered and got to the bottom of the stairs, he looked up.

"Hello, Erik. How was your day?" I asked, dropping my bag at the foot of the stairs.

"It was fine. And yours?" I smiled at him tensely.

"Okay. What're you writing?" I asked, crossing the room to my drawers.

"I'm composing." I perked up a little.

"Really? That's amazing!" He raised an eyebrow, but smiled at me anyway.

"I used to compose opera's for the place I…worked for," he told me, turning back to his writing.

"That would be so wonderful…" I sighed wistfully. I chose my clothes and went into the bathroom. When I emerged, I was in dark blue skinny leg jeans and an over sized dark red shirt that hung off one shoulder. I tied my hair up so it was in a messy bun above my head and sat down on my bed, pulling out my own notebook. I didn't want to pull out my school laptop, not yet. I would introduce him to simpler technologies first. Thinking of him, I looked over to find him staring at me in deep thought. He was not actually looking at my face this time, but rather at my arm closest to him. I followed his gaze and saw that he was staring at a rather large bruise on my forearm where Mike had gripped me exceptionally hard the other day when he was mad at me and I tried to walk away.

A blush rose to my cheeks, but I knew he had seen and there was no use trying to hide it.

"Where did you get that bruise?" He asked with less formality than usual.

"Oh, I'm really clumsy is all." I laughed to shake it off. His eyes narrowed, seeing straight through the lie no one else bothered to.

"I'm sure," he spoke sarcastically. Yet, thankfully, he did not press it.

_Erik watched as Alicia came out of the bathroom. The first thing he noticed was the tightness of her pants. He had never seen clothing like it. In his time, it would be seen as indecent. When he pulled his mind from such ridiculous thoughts, he noticed the large bruise on her pale forearm. He could clearly see it was a gripping wound. She had been manhandled recently. When he asked her about it, she lied as though she had told her story many times. Yet, Erik knew it was just that, a lie. Still, although she had not made rules about asking about her life, it seemed only fair, as he had asked her not to ask about his mask. _

_She turned back to her notebook and began sketching. Her brow creased ever so slightly and a lock of hair fell from its messy containment and fell past her face. She was so immersed in her work; she did not notice his stares. Erik could admit that she was beautiful. Different from the way she was. Alicia's beauty came not from her poise or her voice or her innocent eyes. It came from her appearance, yes, but it more came through her kindness. In fact, her polite and kind demeanour rather surprised him. It was not faked like the ladies of France. She also did not carry on and giggles like a ballet brat. In a way, she did remind him of Christine. However, Erik could sense that somewhere inside her was something harder and harsher. He still had yet to witness it, but he was curious. _

"Alicia! Get up here!" an angry male voice demanded from the behind the door at the top of the stairs. I felt my heart drop to my stomach as I heard Mike's angry growl. I looked to Erik and put a finger to my lips to show him to be quiet. He nodded, although he did look slightly shocked.

"Yes, Sir!" I called, scrambling from my bed and bounding up the stairs. I opened the door and slipped through. Mike stood imposingly with his arms crossed over his chest, looking down on me, his cold aqua glare freezing me to my core. He had the same pale blonde hair as his son.

"You have not yet done any of you duties!" he yelled. My heart beat rapidly.

"Sorry, sir."

"Sorry? You bloody ungrateful cow! You owe us everything!" His hand swung out so fast I didn't even see it. The powerful slap to my face caused me to crash to the ground.

"Get to it!" he growled, then stormed away. I picked myself up and gently held my face, trying to hold back the pain. I bit my lip.

After cleaning the kitchen and preparing dinner for the 'family' I snuck two portions down to the basement. Erik looked up as I entered. His eyes flew wide when he saw my face and he stood.

"That man, was he your father?" he asked. I had no idea what was going through his mind.

"He adopted me," I told him, handing out a portion to him to come and take. He did. I sat on my bed and kept my eyes on my bowl. I wasn't that hungry, so I just moved it around a bit.

_Erik wasn't sure why, but when he saw the bruise on her face, he felt incredible rage. There was clear injustice going on in this household. He was unsure what else to say to the stranger however. He was never usually this calm all the time, this…nice…to anyone. Yet he had not been able to be any other way here. It was out of character for him, he supposed. He watched, as Alicia did not eat her food. It unnerved him somehow. The look in her eyes was one of being lost. It was hopeless. _

"What is that, Alicia?" Mrs Harrow asked the next day. I turned away from her.

"I was so silly, I accidentally ran into a pole on the way home yesterday! I was busy thinking. Didn't even see it." I laughed at my own apparent clumsiness.

"Oh, you really should be more careful," she scolded, rolling her eyes. I blushed.

I should, shouldn't I?

I sat in the dim room of the music class. It was so unused that the light that came in from the venetian blinds made rays of orange dust. My fingers danced away as I surrounded myself in the beauty of Nocturne by Chopin. The dark melody surrounded me in the sunset blazing room. Wrapping me in contentment and peace, as well as the haunting sorrow of the song. This was the reason I came home at five or later. My music kept me from my adoptive family.

The piece I was playing would sound so beautiful with violin, or a voice, if one existed for the peace. So, I had recorded myself playing the violin part and was playing on the stereo as I played. But it did take away from the genuine music.

Feeling inspired by the music, I decided today I'd introduce Erik to modern music on my iPod. Erik was looking bored out of his mind when I got home. He was wandering aimlessly around the room. The way he did this so silently made me think of a ghost.

"Good evening, Erik," I greeted happily. He stopped wandering and looked at me. He seemed agitated. My smile faltered but did not relent.

"Want to try something new?" I asked, reaching into my bag to grab my iPod.

"I suppose. There is nothing much else to do. What is it we shall be doing?" He crossed his arms as if expecting me to come out with some silly little children's game. I slowly took out my iPod and held it up for him to see. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and confusion.

"This is a bit of Modern Technology. Uh, it may seem a little strange, but if you're open to it, you may enjoy it," I said hastily, looking away from his piercing blue gaze.

"I agree. What is it?"

"It's called an iPod, it's used to play music that's been recorded." He frowned in thought before nodding in acceptance. I was expecting more of a questioning fest. But he seemed content with trying it out. I pulled out my earphones.

"Ah, it does mean we have to sit next to each other…my parent's don't like it when I play music out loud, so we use these things, they're called headphones, to listen to the music just in our ear," I explained shyly. I sat ungracefully on my bed and crossed my legs, tapping the spot beside me. Erik sat with far more grace than I, but he was hesitant. He mimicked my position and lent his back against the wall. His blue eyes found my hazel ones and it took me a moment to remember what I was doing.

I gave him a big smile then plugged the headphones in. I handed one of the buds to him and put my one in my ear so he could mirror it. There was just enough space between us so that we were not touching.

"Do you have any kind of music you would like to listen to first?" I whispered unnecessarily.

"Surprise me." I scrolled through the list and picked a song.

Human by The Killers began playing. Erik's eyes shot wide but we both remained silent as the song coursed through us. It was by no means a pure masterpiece but the song still struck a chord within me. When the song ended I turned to look at Erik.

"What did you think?" I asked him hopefully. His electric gaze turned to me.

"This is what modern music is?" he asked in a deep, rich voice.

"Ah, there are a lot worse pieces. And there are better…"

"Alicia, there was nothing wrong with the music. It doesn't matter what time the music was made, as long as it was made with passion." My heart jumped. It was the firs time he had used my name or spoken with such passion. Trying to divert away form my own awkwardness I scrolled through my vast list looking for a song to directly contradict his statement. There, I found it!

"I agree that music made with passion is good music, but I have to let you hear this…"

Halfway through Brittany Spears' 'Work Bitch' Erik tore the headphone out of his ear and glared at my iPod, then at me.

"That was horrid." I laughed.

"Yes. I told you, there are better and worse songs."

"That first one we listened to, what was its name?" Erik asked turning his face away to gaze at the far side of the room.

"Human, by The Killers," I told him.

Erik had heard that tune before. It played in his memory over and over until he was sure. This song was definitely the song he had heard the music box play. He did not recognize it at first out of its clockwork tune, but now he was certain. The song was simple, to him. Yet, the words and their meaning sunk down to his cold heart.


	5. To Hold

**To Hold**

A thunderous knock sounded at the door. Then, the impossible happened…It opened. Without a second thought I shoved Erik off my bed towards the bathroom, breaking my rule of no touch, but this was important. He took the hint, despite being annoyed at the indignity of the situation. When he was in the bathroom I turned to see Andrew stumbling and staggering down the stairs slowly and drunkenly.  
"Andrew, what are you doing in here?" I asked, hating my voice for its fear. Andrew's pale green eyes locked onto me.  
"You! Bloody bitch. I- I thought I heard voices down here…" he growled, pointing a menacing finger towards me as he crossed the room, coming far too close to my face.  
"N-no, of course not," I stuttered. He sneered at me and pushed me down so I landed on my bed, my head hit the wall with a loud 'thud'.  
"You're a lying cow!" he raged.  
"No! No! I promise! I was practicing lines for a play!" I lied quickly. Andrew's mind-set changed so drastically terror ran through my veins.  
"Oh, you wanna be an actress, do you, Ally? Want to be centre stage?" His voice crawled like spiders across my skin as he crept down to lie over me. I was stuck, my fight or flight response was fried. All I could do was hear my own heartbeat in my ears and Andrew's words in my head. His hand snaked around my throat and pressed. Oh god.

Andrew's fingers danced a morbid snake-like piece over my skin, and I felt sick to my stomach. No. I felt the response kick in like a bull. I punched him as hard as I could in the face. His grip on me loosened immediately. I scraped myself away and off the bed. I ran towards the stairs, but he was always faster than me. His too warm and sticky hands grabbed my wrist.  
"LET GO!" I screamed, struggling against him.  
"YOU LITTLE FILTHY BITCH!" He roared, throwing me to the ground and laying punch after punch on me. The pain was so immeasurable and the feeling of helplessness was almost too much to bear. With a kick to my head, everything went into blissful darkness.

In my dreams, I was floating in the Antarctic Ocean in amongst the icebergs. It was so peaceful I though I had died, finally. Yet, I did wake up, and I found myself in an ice cold bath, with all my clothes on, and Erik sitting beside me, watching me.  
"Erik," I croaked in a strained voice.  
"Shhh, rest," he said softly. His electric eyes wandered over my bruised form in something like worry.  
"Why…why am I in this tub?" I asked, though I was not complaining, I certainly couldn't move.  
"Where one might put ice on your wounds, there were too many. So, I put you in this bath. Not only will it help your bruises, but also your fever," his voice was so calm and silken, it felt like it was wrapping me up in it's sound like a blanket.  
"Oh, thank you…" I wanted to sit up, but the pain was too much.  
"Do you wish to get out?" he asked. I nodded in response.  
"Do I have permission to touch you?" he asked hesitantly.  
"Yes." Gently, his hands slipped into the water and lifted me out, holding me bridal style. I felt worry that I had gotten his clothes wet. Then I remembered that yesterday I had bought him clothes.

He carefully let me stand; I clung onto him so I would not fall into a heap on the ground as he wrapped me in my largest towel. It covered me from shoulder to ankle. Then he picked me up again and took me out into my room and placed me on my bed. Quickly, he dashed back into the bathroom and grabbed a second towel. I frowned in confusion, then, as he lifted me up and placed my head in his lap, I understood.

With any other person this experience would have freaked me out. Yet, with Erik, it was almost natural. I sighed in contentment as he ran his fingers through my hair. It was oddly intimate, but it was comforting.

_Erik was enraged. He was keeping on a calm front for Alicia, but inside he was a storm of fire. How dare that insolent little fool prey on Alicia? Yet, he remembered with a sickening feeling that he had been like that to Christine, minus the beating, of course. Erik looked down at the girl in his lap almost with surprise. How had he come to have this kind of intimate experience? It was too good to be true. But, as he gently ran his fingers through her hair he somehow found the reality of it. He knew he should avoid getting attached to this girl. Yet, even he could not deny that the way her clothes clung to her in the bathtub's icy water did not, at least, spark some kind of arousal. He felt foolish. As if a beautiful woman like her would ever feel the same way about a loathsome gargoyle like him. _

_He felt so privileged to be able to hold her like he was. It seemed as if the only physical contact she had was when she was being beaten by one of her adoptive family members. He watched her as she feel into a calm sleep against him._

_Her lashes were long and thick, and they fluttered in her dream-state. A small blush graced her pale cheeks; her pink rose lips were slightly parted. Her damp hair was so dark a brown that it looked black against the other towel he had on his lap. Despite her typically innocent looking features, there were hints of something more wickedly in her. The way her eyes were just ever so slightly slanted, to give the impression of a feline. Her sharp cheekbones and her naturally dark pink lips… then there was her figure, which was wicked in it's own right. Yes, if this girl wanted, she could go from innocent girl to temptress in a flash. _

I woke up to find I was still in Erik's lap, and he had somehow stayed awake. My body felt a hundred times better than before. I looked up at Erik, unsure of what to say.  
"How do you feel, Alicia?" he inquired in his velvet voice.  
"Better. Thank you."  
"I suggest you change, dear, we would not want you catching a cold." I smiled.  
"Okay."

When I came back out, I felt almost human again. Erik had also changed out of his damp clothes and into black trousers and a white dress shirt.  
"My dear, I suggest we begin the discussion of my return to my home," he spoke in eloquence whilst straightening his cuff. He was right. It had been a few days now and we hadn't even brought in up.  
"Okay, what do you have in mind?" I asked him, taking a seat on my bed to face him.  
"I have thought it be best that we travel to Persia."  
"Persia? Oh, Iran?" Erik frowned.  
"Iran?"  
"It's been renamed," I informed him.  
"Well, Iran, then."  
"Why? What's there?"  
"I was hoping to gather information there as to the magic involved in my travels," He told me, placing his hands behind his back and looking as regal as any king.  
"Erik, as much as I would love to go travelling and go on an adventure, there is the internet." I reached into my bag and pulled out my laptop. Erik crossed the room to get a closer look on what I was doing.  
"What…is that?"  
"Uh, it's called a laptop, it's pretty much a device that can hold more than the largest library's amount of knowledge, though most of it is used to play games and use the internet to look at Cat pictures and cheesy Fanfiction," my sentences rambled out. I was terrible at this introducing to the future thing.

"So, what information do you want first?" I asked, hands ready to type into Google. He sat next to me and looked at the screen, he was rather adaptable for a man born in the Victorian era.  
"If you would, please look up Opera Populair," he asked. I did and found the name had been changed. I discovered there was an auction of most of the Opera House after a terrible accident had happened some years prior, though there wasn't much detail on the accident. Eric pointed at the screen to a monkey music box picture.  
"That. Who bought it?" I looked at the information.  
"A man named Raoul Vicomte de Chagny," I told him. Erik tensed beside me.  
"Look him up." I did. I found that he had married a woman named Christine Daae, though they had no children. The monkey, we had discovered after hours of research, had fallen into the hands of a shop owner in the outer regions of Paris. There were strong superstitions about the shop however, according to this blog I had found.  
"My dear, we may have to travel to Paris," he had slight excitement to his voice, a passion burning beneath it.  
"We may…only one thing, I have to finish school first."


End file.
